I still remember the very first time I made a pan of chicken enchilada casserole. It was one of those weeks where nothing was going right—too many errands, a mountain of laundry waiting, and I had promised to bring dinner…
When I think back to the recipes that have become staples in my kitchen, garlic butter is one of the first that comes to mind. My love for it began years ago when I was hosting my very first dinner…
I can still remember the first time I made apple butter, though I’ll be honest—it wasn’t a graceful beginning. I had a basket full of apples from a neighbor’s orchard, far more than we could ever eat out of hand,…
When I was a girl, Sunday mornings often smelled of apples and warm cinnamon drifting through the kitchen. My grandmother would stand at the stove, apron dusted with flour, gently dropping spoonfuls of batter into shimmering oil. She never rushed—she…
I still remember the very first time I made corn dip, though I’ll admit it wasn’t nearly as charming as it sounds now. It was one of those potluck nights where everyone signed up to bring a dish, and I…
When I was a girl, I thought biscuits came out of a cardboard tube. You know the kind—you press a spoon against the seam, and the whole kitchen jumps when the can pops. They were fine for quick Saturday mornings,…
I’ll never forget the first time I made spinach artichoke dip. It was a December evening, years ago, when my husband and I were hosting our very first holiday gathering. We were newly married, our kitchen was barely stocked, and…
I still remember the first time I tried to make Alfredo sauce at home. I was about twenty-two, newly married, and determined to impress my husband with what I thought would be a “fancy” Italian dinner. I had no idea…
I still remember the night I fell for shrimp scampi. I was newly married, standing in a small apartment kitchen with a skillet that had seen better days, determined to make something that felt a little fancier than our usual…
I still remember the first time I made salmon tacos—it wasn’t planned, and it certainly wasn’t elegant. It was a Friday night, and I’d had one of those weeks where everything felt slightly off-kilter. I’d planned on chicken fajitas, but…